A Demon's Poetry
by Mizz Brainiac
Summary: Pain is an immortal half demon who appears to be sixteen. Even a demon has to pay for his sins, he realizes. He resorts to poetry to escape his painful life. Painful, ironic?
1. My Life Story

"**My Life Story"**

…_Is it worth recalling?_

Pain, under the alias Heinrich Gustav, sighed as he held the pencil over the blank sheet. Poetry had been his resort to escape his troubled life. His life was even more troubled than most sixteen-year-olds…

_All has been taken from me_

_My life, my rights, my innocence_

_Nothing remains of the young man_

_Who once possessed my body_

_Now all that remains is darkness_

_Lifeless and emotionless_

_What point is there in documenting my story?_

Setting his pencil down, the blonde boy leaned back with a scowl across his face. His grim, irritated expression had never once left him over the years of his existence. Except for one occasion when it had shown pure horror…

Who was Pain, the young man of many names? Pier Miguel, Peter Jacques, Heinrich Gustav…?

Pain could only be unearthed through his poetry. Rarely did he speak. Rarely did he express any form of emotion. And rarely was his noticed. Unless of course one was unfortunate enough to be staring down the barrel of his gun or tasting the blade of his sword.

_The pain of existence is hard to bare_

_For one who has seen many ages_

_It drives the mind insane_

_The eternal agony_

_Of one's immortality_

Poetry speaks infinite words of its writer's life and feeling. It takes a keen sight of the reader to notice…

_In the dark I see no light_

_In the light I still see darkness_

_And the face of one whose evil exceeds all other_

_Can it be that this is the price of my sins_

_Can it be that even the Tormentor_

_Has his Tormentress?_


	2. Tormentress

"**Tormentress"**

…_that even the Tormentor_

_Has his Tormentress?_

Pain scribbled a few words down as they came to mind, writing through his black abyss of a heart to create his dark poetry. He didn't pay the form in the doorway behind him any mind. The form was slender with all the curves in the right places. Snare as she was called had her arms folded across her chest wearing a well-fitting red dress with a wide, long V neck. Her red eyes glared at the back of his head as her shiny blonde hair waved over her shoulders. Through her eyes you could see her desires—Pain's torment and his attention.

"Heinrich, dear?" Her voice was as smooth as silk yet held vile malice and the smirk on her face was obvious through her tone.

Scowling deeper, Pain snapped, "Leave me. Can't you see I'm occupied?"

Snare languidly made her way behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing the side of her face against his. "Can't you become occupied with me?"

"Do you really need me to answer that?" said he in a dull tone.

Running a hand through his short blonde hair, she made her tone more seductive. Though considering the demon she was talking to, her efforts were in vain. "Come now, all I'm asking for is a few minutes of your time."

"A few minutes of wasted time that I'll never get back."

A frown forming, Snare glared. "Must we do this the hard way? Oh that's right—that way has already been done." Her frown transformed into a smirk. "In France."

Pain's expression faltered only for a moment. "…Leave me. Or _I _will leave _you_."

Snare glared and her black fingernails grew. They grew long and sharp as a blade. She pressed them against his cheek turning his head to face her. "Remember what I told you would happen if you left me."

His expression not faltering this time, he glared steadily.

"I _will_ find another man strong enough to hold you down," vowed she. "And I _will_ break your pride."

As wondered in his writing…

_What pride?_

_Is there anything that remains?_

_All has been stolen from me._

_Dignity. Purity. _

_And Pride._

_The haughty Tormentress_

_Her desires so cruel and warped_

_Why is it me she chooses?_

_Is it for my sins?_

_Or have I simply been cursed_

_With a shadow stalking my every step_

_And waiting until I am vulnerable_

_Before she strikes_

_So ruthless_

_And cold._


	3. Freedom

"**Freedom"**

_Freedom is a myth_

_There is no such thing_

_Centuries I have struggled in vain_

_Under the illusion_

_That freedom would be my reward_

_Now I realize I was a fool_

_Freedom does not exist_

_Not for me_

Early 1400s…

Her hands bound behind her and her feet smoldering from the coals she had been forced to walk across, Snare scowled at Pain who led her away from the village toward the bridge, carrying a heavy chain. "I don't ever want to see you try anything like that again!"

"Silence, _witch_," Pain snapped. Only minutes before had he went to the judge and accused Snare of witchcraft. Freedom of his eternal torment was so close. His cold, dark heart longed for the life of the free.

"Release me, you've had your fun," snapped the Tormentress. "And if you _ever_ attempt to—"

Pain stopped halfway across the rapidly flowing river still holding her upper arm securely. "Your reign of my life ends here, Snare."

It seemed to finally sink in that he was not going to release her as he had previously agreed. Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare…"

Pain released her to pull the chain off and wrap it around her. Snare backed up but tripped on a board and fell backward facing him. "Think about what you're doing!"

Glowering at her helpless form, he replied, "I already have."

Quickly, he bound her in the weighted chains and raised her to her feet pressing her back against the wooden railing. Snare scowled deeply, "I will return and you know I will—you will never be free of me, Pain! You are my slave—I _OWN_ you!"

Pain lifted her off her feet matching her scowl. "I am no one's slave, and I belong to no one."

He pushed her off the edge, and she plummeted to a rocky, watery grave. Pain watched his expression never faltering. It was only until the river took her away that his heart fell, disillusioned. He leaned against the railing and watched the water wind through the sharp rocks below.

To himself, he mused, "I am…free?"

Freedom did not feel quite like what he expected as he had struggled for centuries to gain. He expected to feel the heaviness that had dragged his shoulders low since his bizarre creation lifted and rejuvenation fill his very essence. But…he did not feel this way. In fact, dread consumed him.

Crest-fallen, he hung his head closing his eyes sadly. "She will return…I am not free."

As he opened his eyes and stared at the running water, his generally grave and irritated expression changing to pure sadness and longing, he wondered…

_Will I ever be free? Or is there even such a thing…_

_Clearly, not for me._


	4. Punishment

"**Punishment"**

_My tormentress returned_

_As she vowed_

_What a fool was I to believe_

_I could simply be rid of her_

_She is my shadow_

_My price for my sins_

_Death could not compare_

_To what torment awaited me_

_My cruel punishment._

France, mid 1700s…

Pain never liked France and after his short stay, he would only despise it more. The love, the beauty, the elegancy—it sickened him. What truly disgusted him was the repulsive attire and towering rat-infested wigs. He had lived through many centuries and seen trends change but this, this was just…

"Ridiculous," he muttered as he sat at the front of the cart led by his loyal black horse (black was such a negative, dark, and depressing color—Pain adored it). Pain, now Peter Jacques, was dressed as a simple traveler. He would have to stop in France to let his horse rest before continuing travel, but there was no way he'd put on the present-day attire these French pranced about it.

He stayed in a simple boarding home with what money he had of this present era and at no point in time expected to be taken in the night. But he was.

At the slight noise of feet across bored, he opened his eyes to see a slender figure looming above him. His stone heart lurched into his throat as he caught the shimmer of long blonde hair in the moonlight that poured in from the window. And that was all he remembered before the world went dark…

He awoke dressed in a slave's attire, confined to a small room with a poor excuse for a bed beneath him. Quickly, he sat up and went to the door trying the handle. It had been locked.

"Joy," muttered he.

Snare had finally made her point. He was her slave now. As usual though, he refused to believe so.

The door swung open so fast he had to jump back in order not to be caught in its way. Standing there in the doorway was his tormentress that he had hurled into the raging river.

"Come, _slave_, I'm attending the royal dinner."

How she had become royalty, he was not certain. Nor did he want to know.

"I am not your slave, Snare; I have told you this many times before."

Her eyes flashed. "Hm. You amuse me. Would it change your opinion if I told you I not only have the writing and the records that you belong to me, but I have managed to get so close to the people of France that I could turn the entire nation against you if you defied me?"

Pain blinked confused. Had she not _just_ returned?

"You see, Pain, I cab be a patient woman. I have waited for you to come near enough to France for years now. I even have a new friend with similar _interests _as I have." Snare smirked. "Defiance will get you no where. I own you."

Pain had not believed her. But three days later, he discovered that she had not been bluffing. She was capable of vicious horrors. And he was victim to every one.

On the third day as her slave, he had accompanied her to another royal banquet. There he met this _friend _of hers. Lefarbe Dubeaux. A very sick man who _did _in fact share many interests with Snare. Including eying Pain which proceeded in making the demon extremely uncomfortable.

Snare took Lefarbe home that night.

"Peter, dear, prepare my bed," she ordered, arm linked with the tall beefy man.

Without an argument, Pain made her bed, cringing at the thought of what she and Lefarbe would be doing.

Snare whispered to her companion, "Lefarbe, dear, may I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course." The middle aged man's eyes flashed with earnest as she whispered in his ear.

Pain remained oblivious to their plots as he straightened the sheets. It was only until too late did he realize that he was preparing the bed for himself and not the aged guest.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around and received a blow to the gut that made him black out for a few seconds and double over with a cry of pain. The meaty hands of Lefarbe forced him against the bed and a huge knee crushed his ribs as it held him down. Snare ran a hand through his hair lightly and smirked knowing well of what was to come. The horror had only just begun.

_Bloody sheets_

_A shattered pride_

_And a scarred mind_

_Were all that remained_

_Of that horrific night_

_In France_

_Blood and tears_

_Flowed like the Nile_

_As I was branded_

_With scars_

_My tormentress, she said_

_She owned me_

_And she has proven her words_

_Not once was I taken_

_But over and again_

_Until I could no longer stand it_

_And I slipped into blackness_

_What a beautiful color black is…_


	5. Numb

"**Numb"**

_I can no longer feel my body_

_Nor my soul_

_All has burned in the flames from which I came_

_I am numb_

Pain sat on his poor excuse for a bed in Snare's elegant mansion in France. His head was tilted back and leaned against the wall, his eyes closed but his mind very conscious. A month had passed since that awful night and that had repeated at least three times since. The pain was driving him insane. It drove his nerves to the point where he simply could not feel anything.

_This is how my victims felt…_ He mused. Pain was known as the Tormentor because over the years he had tortured many a soul. He was a demon who fed off of the pain and fear of others. Rarely did he resort to causing pain to his victims though. He generally fed of their fears. But if he was drained enough…

If this was the way his victims felt, Pain was not certain he could keep up what he had been doing for nearly 5,700 years now. Was it because he was developing compassion or empathy? Hardly—he only felt that if he inflicted pain upon any mortal soul it would remind him of his stay in France, and he would break down right then…

But right now it didn't matter. He was numb.

The locked door of his quarters was unlocked. Once before, earlier in his stay, he would have prepared to jump his Tormentress and race out in hopes of freedom only to dig his grave deeper. But now what point was there? He was numb.

Snare entered his room smirking vilely at him. "Oh, Peter, dear, you look dreadful."

Before, he would have snapped a remark at her. A clever one he knew she wouldn't be able to respond to without fumbling. But now… He was numb.

Snare picked up on this numbness of his soul and slowly went around and sat beside him on his bed. She pressed herself against him stroking his hair.

"You know it's no fun when you don't resist like olden times."

Pain did not respond nor did he show any reaction to her touch or give a sign that he had heard her.

"Lefarbe is here again."

That meant that night would be a repeat of the first… But he remained indifferent. He was numb.

Something sank in for Snare as she stroked his collar and chest. "Have I broken you? Have I broken _Pain_ the Tormentor?" When he did not respond, her smirk grew. "I have. Oh and you said it couldn't be done, my slave."

Any other time he would gain a fire in his eyes and passionately protest that he was no one's slave. But now… He was numb.


	6. Demons to Fight

**By the way, Pain was able to join armies of every generation despite being trapped in a sixteen-year-old's body because he lied about his age and sometimes grew facial hair to make him appear older.**

"**Demons to Fight"**

_In a man's darkest hour_

_Battling the demons within_

_Would they ever stop and wonder_

_Do the demons fight their own?_

Germany 1943

He just couldn't stand it anymore. Pain threw his gun on the dining room table as he plopped into a chair and held his head by either side with his hands propping his elbows up on the table. He couldn't take all that he had seen. He hadn't known what to expect when he joined the Nazis. It is true that a demon would not feel remorse, but Pain was a half breed. A demon spirit fused with a human soul. And the human soul had finally started to show itself.

Snare stood in the entry way that conjoined the family room to the kitchen and dining room and watched him with a confused look on her face. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Using a tone she had never heard from him, Pain pleaded, "Take that gun and shoot me. Now."

With an astonished look, Snare blinked away perplexity. "I would, but now that you actually want it…"

"Shoot me!" begged Pain.

Snare approached him from behind and massaged his shoulders gently. With glittering dark eyes, she said, "What you need is rest. _Sleep_. Things may be better when you wake."

Human emotions that had rarely affected him boiled inside. He had no idea how to handle them. This human soul that had fused with the demon's spirit was stronger than it appeared. His voice almost layered, he snapped, "Stay away from me!"

"It looks to me like you're emotionally compromised—I _really_ don't think you should be giving commands," she said with the smirk clear in her voice.

Pain struggled to keep his shoulders from shuddering with the pain and turmoil of these emotions. "Just leave me."

"Now why would I do that? I want to know more about how this human soul is affecting you. You seem to be getting soft. I could use that someday."

"Go!" he yelled, in no mood. After a while seeing that she would get nothing out of him, Snare left him alone in the dining room.

Pain closed his eyes tight, the war waging within him paining him more than Snare had ever managed. He felt something wet slide down his cheek. Tears? He had only shed tears once before, in France. He had vowed never to do it again because it showed weakness. Yet now here he was, crying like a babe. What was wrong with him?

All night, Pain did not move from where he sat. The war inside him raged on endlessly, not allowing him slumber. Pain was fighting the demon within him. A real demon. One that had consumed the torment of others for ages. Surely it would devour the human soul it was fused with, and Pain would be a monster once more. But it did not.

A desperate plea

A promise broken

A war waged within

Even demons

Have their battle to wage

And as they fight

They are more alone

Than ever before

This is their battle

The outcome is theirs.


	7. Lost

"**Lost"**

_Never have I wandered so aimlessly_

_So lost and uncertain_

_I know not who I a,_

_Nor whom I want to be_

_I am neither man nor demon_

_I am lost_

While he had sat at that table the entire night battling himself and shedding tears he never had before, Snare had retreated to the bedroom. Yet when Pain arose the next morning she was no where to be found. Perhaps that was a good thing, he thought. Perhaps this means he could have some time to figure himself out. But if she was plotting something vile… Of course, that raised the question, when does she not?

Pain did not think he could stomach anything solid so he lethargically fixed a pot of tea. His movements were slow as he was not fully in reality. He was lost in his mind. Searching for anything that could tell him who he was. He had always thought of himself a demon. He never really considered the possibility of his demon spirit having fused to more than just the mortal Maliki's body. And even if he had realized this, he would never have imagined it to be so strong.

He was so confused. Neither was he Pain the Tormentor nor Maliki the gentle mortal. What was he?

Somberly, he recollected his creation.

Two demonic spirits battled in the earth's sky. Each looked to be masses of ecstatic electricity. One would try to devour the other. Both were equally matched and neither caught any more ground than the other. But when they both propelled themselves at each other at massive speeds, they made contact and then were hurled away in opposite directions.

The mass of blue violet electricity hurled straight through a man's tent and into the body of the innocent engaged young man, Maliki. He awoke with a start screaming as the mass consumed him until his spirit had been overwhelmed by the demon's. His fiancée and his family who slept around him had awakened as he screamed all rushing to help their dearest member.

Maliki, completely consumed, had rose and slaughtered them all. Even his little sister Maia who could not even read yet. The massive confusion of that morning was like no other. But the demon inside Maliki was indifferent. He walked out of the tent with blood on his hands and headed back as he had come. To find the spirit he was forever at war at—his tormentress as it so happened. The fusing of the demon spirit and Maliki's spirit had created a new spirit—Pain's.

Never before had Pain felt so much remorse and grief for that morning. Did this mean that Maliki was taking control of his body again? Or did Maliki even exist anymore?

Pain sighed and massaged his temples, a horrid headache approaching him.

Would he ever be the Tormentor again? Or was he turning human? Did he _honestly_ have a conscience now? So many unanswered questions overwhelmed him. How was he to find the answers? All he could do was be patiently confused.

_For ages I believed I was wicked_

_I was ruthless and sick_

_And there was no way for me to change_

_Yet now I am seeing_

_That even demons change_

_For better_

_Or for worse_


	8. Nameless

"**Nameless"**

_A question_

_Simple yet complex_

_Who am I?_

_I am not myself_

_Nor am I another_

_Nor am I the demon inside me_

_Nor the human within_

_Who am I?_

_This is simple_

_I am nameless._

Perhaps it was the mass confusion in his stone cold heart that was slowly warming, or the jumble of emotions welling inside him, or even the demon inside him struggling with all he had, but Pain had no idea just _who_ he was. He had always been so sure, so positive (negative would probably be the better word). But now he was just another wandering soul on the face of the Earth. More confused than most though.

Another good question was why was he here? On Earth. Alive. What was his purpose in life? Did he have one? What was the point of living if he had no purpose? Especially when he'd be living for an eternity.

But he was a nameless soul. He did not know who he was, much less what his purpose was.

He had wandered in his bedroom to lie down and sleep the mystery away. It was not until he had laid down on the comfortable mattress that he realized Snare was not in here. He would have laid there not caring if it hadn't been for the fact that she could have plotted a despicable scheme and was near about to pounce. He forced himself to leave the welcoming comfort of his bed and he went over. Slowly, without really caring, he searched for her. When he didn't find her he felt an odd mix of relief and dread welling up inside him.

Was he free? No, he was confined to the dread of her coming at any moment. But the least he could do was sleep the pain away. She had actually been right. Sleep would help. Sleep would give his mind rest.

Cutting off the lights, he lied down in bed and pulled the sheets over him as he drifted away into a soundless slumber. There the nameless soul rested for the first time in a long time without his vile Tormentress at his side.

_Into the night sky_

_Drift my worries_

_Dotting the sky like stars_

_I have never slept_

_Like this ever before_

_Was it because I was nameless_

_Because I was without purpose_

_Or because my Tormentress_

_Was no where to be found?_


	9. Scars of Before

**(check out this ****[link]****)**

"**Scars of Before"**

_My heart is no longer stone_

_Nor black as the night_

_It has been molded_

_By the human soul within me_

_Into a different creation_

_One I do not recognize_

_One that feels for those_

_That pass me by_

_With pain in their eyes_

_One that feels remorse_

_For the wicked things_

_I have done in the past_

_And the pain I inflicted_

_Upon those innocent_

_And guilty, alike_

_One that wonders_

_If those who pass me by_

_See the scars_

_Of the things I had done_

_And the things _

_that have been done to me_

_Does anyone see_

_The scars of before?_

Emotions were new to Pain, yet they came so naturally. He did not have to try to feel remorse. He did not have to put any effort in it whatsoever. The emotions… They just came as they pleased. He could neither control them nor understand them. So many years he had gone without the human emotions of guilt and empathy. Now they had possessed his body as the demon within him had possessed Maliki all those many ages ago.

Pain struggled. All that he had known was being contradicted by this strange thing called a human soul. He knew what was right according to his emotions, but he knew that right was something he was indifferent to. Strangely, he was becoming less and less indifferent as the days passed one by one. These emotions grew inside him like the roots of a tree.

His newfound emotions were permitted to blossom now that he didn't have his Tormentress to hinder him. Of course, there was always that sense of dread that would never leave him; but he accepted that whatever was to come would be unavoidable. Besides, he had found where she hid his sword.

He unsheathed the beautiful yet deadly weapon that's blade gleamed in the light. The slender saber was a magnificent sight, perfectly balanced in his hand. But along with the adoration and sense of familiarity came the overwhelming regret. The lives he had stolen with this sword. And not just this sword. He had held many and slain many souls. Regret had never been an emotion he was fully accustomed to. Yet now it was welling so strong within him that he felt like dropping to his knees in agony.

He sheathed the sword and hung it in his room, in the dark corner so that he would not have to look at it.

Though his Tormentress was gone, he was still tormented by his own developing emotions. Were emotions meant to warm the heart or to ravage the soul?

"**Corruption"**

_The warrior's sword_

_So sleek and slender_

_So fleet and precise_

_It's beauty beyond compare_

_Yet even it can be stained_

_With the blood of innocents_

_Is nothing sacred?_

_Is nothing pure?_

_In this world so corrupt_

_Surely, not._


	10. Imprisoned

"**Imprisoned"**

_I was not prepared_

_For her return_

_She had changed_

_For the worst_

_I had changed as well_

_For what I am not sure_

_But all of that_

_Was destroyed_

_For my Tormentress_

_Sold me to another._

Hundreds of years later…

The four blades piercing his chest were so cold as the agony shot through his mortal body. The pain was horrendous. From behind someone had crept and sent four deadly sharp blades had entered through his back and now protruded from his chest. Pain was amazingly able to think through the anguish of his wounds. He knew who had inflicted this upon him, who stood behind him still holding the blades through his chest.

With his right lung punctured, he struggled to gasp out, "Snare…"

Snare, whose features had changed to complement her even further, smirked. "Right you are, my slave."

Her fingernails were black and claw-like. On her right hand, her fingernails had grown to the length of daggers—long enough to pierce straight through his chest.

Why would she kill him, he pondered. Her goal had always been to cause him torment and drag out his immortal life painfully. Never to actually kill him. That was too merciful.

Centuries ago, Pain would have welcomed death. But now that his "human" side was developing, he was finding the secrets behind life ever slowly but ever surely.

Practically reading his mind, Snare's smirk grew. "My dear, Pain. I have someone interested in your skills. He can save you…_if_ you cooperate."

…

She took him away. Away from Earth—the world he was so familiar with. She took him by ship. _Space_ship. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Or it would have been if he were not fading quickly in a pool of blood on the floor of the ship's cabin. Something was keeping him alive—_how?_ And _what?_

He thought the agony of eternal existence was painful. It was nothing compared to the torment he was going through now. Why wouldn't he _die_? Any man would have died in a matter of seconds from a wound as he had received. He was pleading for death as he lay, so frail, fading quickly but never dying. It was a match to the torment inflicted upon him in France.

After what felt like days of endless anguish, a man only a few years older than he knelt beside him. His dark cloak made him believe that this was the reaper of souls here to reap his own. But sadly no.

His voice spoke through the dark pain to the young half-demon. "I can relieve you of your misery. All you must do is become my servant."

_No, _Pain thought. _I will not be _ANYONE'S_ servant _EVER AGAIN_!_

The wicked telepathic man picked up on his thoughts. "Or I could simply leave you here to suffer for all eternity. You realize _my_ power is what is keeping you from death."

So he was responsible for the endless suffering Pain was dealing with? Oh this was only getting better and better.

Getting rather impatient, the man used smooth tone to threaten. "You've only got five seconds to answer unless you'd like to remain in agony for the rest of eternity."

Pain's mind screamed, _FINE!_

As the man healed him, Pain let the horror of reality sink in.

He was a slave once more.


	11. Tormentor

"**Tormentor"**

_Shame is all I know_

_Regret and shame_

_I am a slave once more_

_And I am used_

_To torment innocents_

_I hardly know_

_The nameless soul_

_Has become a slave_

_And the slave_

_Has become the Tormentor._

Alchem was now the ring leader. Snare was his second in command. They ordered Pain around like a dog. A dog that torments that is. Snare apparently had told Alchem of Pain's extraordinary knowledge and conduct of torture methods, for that was what jobs Alchem assigned to him. His first was to torture a medic which astounded him. Alchem explained that this medic tended to the team of rebels that opposed him. Not only was he guilty of that, but he was brother to the leader of said team that Alchem despised with a passion. Alchem's goal was clearly to anger him.

Pain expected a thirty-one-year-old man. But that was not at all what he had received…

…

The pity for others that he had developed over the years overwhelmed him as he looked down at the young face of his victim. He couldn't be any older than Pain appeared. He certainly seemed mature and grown up the first time Pain saw him, his posture straight and his way of speaking being very mature. But that had all crumbled away now.

Alchem wanted this incredibly young medic in as much pain as Pain could afflict without killing him. He had made certain to emphasize that the teenager must be alive when Pain was through with him.

Pain was going easy on him, not that anyone would be able to tell. When the demon was all that he was, he could perform some amazingly horrendous torture, sawing off limbs, degrading, nicking of bits of flesh, scourging… Only Pain noticed that he was holding back. And perhaps Snare if she was watching.

The young medic had been beaten, whipped, cut, stretched, and for a test of endurance had a sword shoved down his throat and was warned not to gag or flinch. Now that aura of dignity around him had diminished. He was slumped over in the chair he was tied to, blindfolded, and groaning.

The demon side of Pain was slowly returning, enjoying every scream he stole from the young medic. His more human side was battling the demon within him, making the remorse and guilt whelm up inside him.

Pain still had one last thing Alchem had specifically requested that he do. In his hand he clutched a bottle that held a mixture of chemicals. Chemicals that surely would make a man go blind, and ruin any skilled medic. Alchem wanted it permanent… Pain wasn't certain he could do it.

He tilted the whimpering teen's head back and removed the blindfold. The medic's eyes were open long enough for the chemicals to be poured in. Pain could not imagine the horrendous pain the chemicals brought upon the eyes, the feel of needles being stabbed into the eyes. The young medic screamed and closed his eyes as tightly as it could, the pain never fading. When he opened his eyes, the blue of his eyes had faded into a silvery shade of gray, clouded with blindness. Pain looked away from his work and walked out of the room called "special confinement" and headed back toward his room kicking himself for not defying orders any more than he had.

_I am a dog to the master_

_I bend to his will_

_Showing little defiance_

_What a disgrace am I._


	12. Escape

"**Escape"**

_Escape was in my reach_

_So close was I to freedom_

_The nonexistent ideal_

_When my Tormentress arrived_

_And chained me to a leash._

Pain had little experience with a space shuttle, but he figured he could pick it up quickly. If not, crashing and burning as a "free" man in a space shuttle was much better than suffering eternity as a slave. Then again freedom was a mythical dream forever out of his reach.

This belief was confirmed when the most horrific pain he could imagine overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes tightly not certain what it was that had happened to him, blinded by the torment, but somehow he knew he had been caught as he snuck out onto the landing pad. He could still hear the voices behind him speaking as the agony overwhelmed any of his ability to move.

"I told you he would try it tonight."

"Yes, you did, Snare, my servant. He will be executed as an example at dawn."

"Oh please, no, Alchem—allow me to play with him! I have done a good job as you have said, my master."

There was a pause in which Pain's mind was jumbled as the pain increased. He was in darkness—he had no idea how this was being caused but whatever it was it was excruciating and overwhelmed every fiber. Blood trickled from his mouth.

"Fine. You have until dawn to…do as you please. Do not let this be known to any being on board this station or _you_ will be next."

"Understood, my master."

Pain was forever a slave. And it was clear he would die one to. After Snare was through doing as she _pleased_. Freedom was only a thing of his imagination. What was real was slavery, torment, and this horrendous agony he was enduring that stained his clothes with blood from his mouth and tear-like blood that had started to flow from his eyes. Real was pain, torment, and injustice.

Justice, relief, and freedom were all a myth.


	13. Kindness

"**Kindness"**

_Kindness was alien to me_

_Yet it was introduced to me_

_By one I would have never expected_

_By one who had a passion for justice_

_Justice being my death_

_The fury in this angel's eyes_

_Melted to compassion_

_And kindness was displayed to me_

_For the first time._

Pain was tied to the very same chair that he had tied the medic and beat him viciously. Blood literally covered one entire side of his face from a gash in his head delivered to him from Snare's beatings. She had one night with him and she was going to make sure it was his very worst. And she was succeeding.

…

Meanwhile…

Maggie was a telepath who was an ally of the resistance against Alchem's organization, the Toxic Society. Currently, she was pissed off. For the type of mutant she was, that was not a good thing for anyone in her path. The reason for her being so irate was this—her boyfriend, a young medic—had been tortured and blinded only weeks before. An aura of lilac surrounded her with every step she took closer toward "special confinement." She had already disabled the security in this branch and every TS (Toxic Society) Trooper that came near her was easily tossed aside.

She had one goal at the current moment—to find her boyfriend's tormentor and put an end to him. And she knew exactly who this tormentor was thanks to a friend of hers hacking into the TS database.

His name was Pain. By the emotionless look on his face and the cold, emptiness in his eyes that she saw in his picture and the brief summary of his past, she seriously doubted that she'd feel much remorse for his end. Her tunnel of vision had been set, and it was trained on Pain. She wanted the one who had blinded her boyfriend and driven him to the brink of insanity to suffer.

Finally, she had reached it. Special Confinement Unit SC-6. She put a hand on her shades ready to whip them off and let her powerful element-bending glare demolish the thick door. That's when she heard the voices.

…

"You're turning into such a softie—it's unbelievable! You're a _demon_, Pain! What happened to the tormentor that sawed off limbs? Don't think I didn't notice that you went easy on him!"

Pain refused to respond to anything that Snare uttered. He was doomed—there was no way around that fate. He planned to suffer in silence.

"Are you deaf? I think your ears are deteriorating—you couldn't even follow a simple order. Do you know the difference between _permanent_ and _temporary_, you incompetent fool! Alchem wanted Grayson ruined! He wanted him _permanently _blind!"

Still, Pain was silent. This outraged Snare. She took the metal club and swung with fury as her force behind her swing. Pain couldn't muffle his exclamation as he felt something inside his rib cage snap sickeningly. His reaction pleased her, and she prepared another swing. That's when Snare ran into the door. Or rather, the door ran into her.

…

Maggie had telepathically blasted away the door. In turn, the door was thrown straight into Snare. Unintentional but highly affective. Snare slumped over having been knocked unconscious by the door.

The dark haired telepath took note of the other form in the room. Tied to a chair, helpless, bleeding out, and wheezing. Tears of blood stained his face as well as the blood that poured over one side of his face.

It was against her way to kill someone who was helpless. It was also unjust in her mind to leave someone helpless with a psycho such as the unconscious witch under the demolished door. Plus, he was clearly dying.

She knew it was Pain. But she also knew many other things now. Pain had purposefully made it so that Grayson would recover from the physical scars as well as the blindness. Still, that didn't make what he did right.

Groaning, Snare started to stir. There wasn't much time to make a proper decision. Half of her knew she had to help Pain and half of her wanted to leave him to die and she didn't have time for a game of eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

She laid a single hand on his chest, making him wince, and started to heal him through a telepathic connection through the body's cells. As she did so she got the strange feeling she'd regret this…


End file.
